The Knights of the Cross/Volume 2/Chapter 38

by Henryk Sienkiewicz

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Though after the destruction, fire, and slaughter inflicted on Sieradz in 1331 by the Knights of the Cross, Kazimir the Great had rebuilt the place which had been levelled with the ground, it was not over-brilliant, and could not compare with other cities of the kingdom. But Yagenka, whose life had been passed till then between Zgorzelitse and Kresnia, could not contain herself from astonishment and wonder at sight of the walls, the towers, the town hall, and especially the churches, of which the wooden church at Kresno could not give the least idea. At the first moment she lost her usual resolution to such a degree that she did not dare to speak aloud, and inquired only in whispers of Matsko touching all those wonders which dazzled her eyesight. But when the old knight assured her that Sieradz was to Cracow as a common torch to the sun, she could not believe, for it seemed to her impossible that there could be another city on earth of such splendor.

They were received at the cloister by the same decrepit friar who remembered from years of childhood the slaughter inflicted by the Knights of the Cross, and who on a former occasion had received Zbyshko. News of the abbot caused them sorrow and anxiety. He had remained a long time in the cloister, but had gone two weeks before to his friend, the Bishop of Plotsk. He was ailing continually. He had his wits in the morning, but in the evening his mind wandered. He tried to spring up, commanded the attendants to put on his armor, and challenged Prince Yan of Ratibor to battle. His wandering clerics had to hold him in bed by force,—a thing which was not done without great difficulty, and even danger. Two weeks before, he had regained his mind completely, and, though he had grown weaker, he commanded to take him to Plotsk immediately.

"He declared that he had not such confidence in any man as in the Bishop of Plotsk," said the prior, "and that he wished to receive from his hands the Sacrament, and place his will in them. We opposed this journey as much as we were able, for he was very weak, and we feared that he would not reach Plotsk alive. But it was not easy to oppose him, so his playmen prepared his carriage, and went away with him, God grant successfully."

"If he had died anywhere near Sieradz you would have heard of it," said Matsko.

"We should, so I think that he did not die, or at least that he did not breathe his last this side of Lenchytsa; but what may have happened beyond I know not. If you follow him you will learn on the road."

Matsko was afflicted by the news and went to consult with Yagenka, who had heard already from Hlava of the abbot's departure.

"What will be done?" asked he, "and what wilt thou do with thyself?"

"You will go to Plotsk, and I with you," answered Yagenka, mildly.

"To Plotsk?" repeated Anulka with her thin voice.

"See how they arrange matters! They will go right away to Plotsk as straight as the cast of a sickle."

"But how could I go back alone with Anulka? Unless I go farther it would have been better not to leave home at all. Do you not think that there they will be more stubborn and angrier than ever?"

"Old and young Vilk will defend thee against Stan."

"I fear Vilk's defence quite as much as Stan's attack. I see that you are opposing just to oppose, not in earnest."

Of course Matsko did not oppose sincerely. On the contrary he preferred that Yagenka should go with him, so when he heard her words he laughed, and said,—

"She has put off her petticoats and wants to have wit."

"Wit is in the head only," said Yagenka.

"But Plotsk is out of my way."

Hlava says that it is not out of the way, that by the road through Plotsk it is shorter to Malborg.

"Then have ye been advising already with Hlava?"

"Of course; and he said besides, 'If the young lord has fallen into any misfortune in Malborg much can be done through Princess Alexandra of Plotsk, for she is a relative of the King, and she is besides a special friend of the Knights of the Cross and enjoys great consideration among them.'"

"True, as God is dear to meI" cried Matsko. "All know that, and if she would give a letter to the Grand Master we could travel most safely through all lands of the Order. They like her, for she likes them. That is good advice; that Hlava is not a dull fellow."

"Of course he is not!" cried Anulka, with enthusiasm, raising her blue eyes.

Matsko turned to her suddenly.

"But what hast thou to do in this case?"

The girl was terribly confused, and drooping her long lashes grew as red as a rose.

Matsko saw that there was no other way but to take the two girls farther, and he was willing in secret to do so; hence he continued his journey next morning after taking farewell of the prior. Because of the melting snow and the increase of water, he advanced with greater toil than ever. On the way he inquired about the abbot at many noble residences and priest's houses, or, where these failed, at inns where he halted. It was easy to follow the abbot's traces, for he had given alms, he had paid for masses, he had given for bells, and contributed to decaying churches, so that more than one poor grandfather who was travelling "to ask," more than one sexton, nay, more than one priest, remembered him with gratitude. People said generally that he "travelled like an angel," and they were praying for his health, though here and there fear was expressed that he was nearer eternal salvation than temporal recovery. In some places he had halted two or three days because of exceeding weakness; therefore it seemed probable to Matsko that they would overtake him.

But he failed in his reckoning, for the swollen waters of the Ner and the Bzura detained them. Before reaching Lenchytsa they were forced to halt four days in an empty inn which the innkeeper had deserted apparently through fear of high water. The road from the inn to the city, though covered with tree-trunks, had sunk, and for some considerable distance was changed to a mud-pit. Vit, Matsko' s attendant, a native of that region, had heard something of a way through the forest, but was unwilling to serve as guide, for he knew that in the mud of Lenchytsa unclean powers had their residence, and especially the mighty Boruta, who was glad to entice people into bottomless places and rescue them only at the price of their souls' salvation. The inn itself was ill-famed, and though travellers in those days carried with them provisions and had no fear of hunger, a stay in such a house caused alarm even to Matsko.

At night they heard fighting on the roof; at times some one knocked at the door. Yagenka and Anulka, who slept in a little room near the front chamber, heard also the pattering of small feet on the floor and ceiling, and even along the walls. This did not frighten them overmuch, for in Zgorzelitse they had been accustomed to imps which were fed by Zyh in his time, and which, by the general opinion of those days, were not malicious if one did not spare broken food on them. But one night a deep, ominous roar was given out in a neighboring thicket; next morning they found in the mud immense hoof tracks, which might be those of a wild ox or buffalo, but Vit said that they were tracks of Boruta, who though in the form of a man, and even of a nobleman, has hoofs instead of feet, and the boots in which he shows himself among people he takes off in the mud to spare them.

Matsko, on hearing that one might reconcile Boruta by drink, meditated all day over this: would it be sinful to show friendly feeling to an evil spirit?—and he consulted with Yagenka.

"I might hang an ox-bladder of wine or mead on the fence at night," said he; "if it is drunk in the night, we shall know that he is about here."

"If the heavenly powers are not offended," replied Yagenka; "we must not offend, for we need a blessing to rescue Zbyshko."

"I am afraid of that too, but I think this way: mead is not the soul. I will not give my soul; but what do the heavenly powers care for one ox-bladder of mead?" Then he lowered his voice and added: "For a noble to entertain a noble, though the most worthless, is a common occurrence, and people say that he is a noble."

"Who?" inquired Yagenka.

"I have no wish to mention the name of the unclean one."

But Matsko hung out on the fence with his own hands that evening a large ox-bladder in which drinks were carried usually, and next morning the bladder was empty to the bottom. It is true that Hlava, when they spoke of it, smiled somewhat strangely, but no one noticed him. Matsko was glad, for he hoped that when they crossed the swamp no unexpected hindrance or happening would meet them.

"Unless it is said untruly that he knows honor," thought Matsko.

The first need of all was to inquire if there was really a way through the forest. There might be, for wherever the ground is kept solid by plants and tree-roots the earth does not soften from rain easily. Vit, who as a man of the place might carry out that work best, cried at the mere mention of it: "I will not go, though you kill me!" Vainly did they explain to him that in the daytime unclean power cannot act. Matsko wished to go himself, but they settled on this, that Hlava, who was a daring fellow and glad to exhibit his daring before people, and especially before women, put an axe inside his girdle, took a staff in his hand, and started.

He set out before daylight, and they looked for his return about midday, but when they did not see him they began to fear. In vain did the servants listen near the edge of the forest. Vit merely waved his hand and said: "He will not come back; if he does woe to us, for God knows whether it will not be with a wolf snout and changed into a wolf man." When they heard this all were afraid; Matsko was not himself; Yagenka, turning toward the forest, made signs of the cross; Anulka from moment to moment sought in vain for an apron on knees which were now covered with leggings, and not finding anything with which to shade her eyes, she shaded them with her fingers, which soon became wet from tears falling one after the other.

But about the time of evening milking, just at sunset, Hlava returned, not alone, but with some human figure which he drove on a rope before him. All ran out at once toward him with shouts, and were delighted, but they grew silent at sight of the figure, which was small, had bent hands, long hair, was black, and dressed in wolf skins.

"In the name of the Father and the Son, what kind of an imp art thou bringing us?" cried Matsko.

"What do I care," answered Hlava; "he says that he is a man and a tar-burner, but what he is really I know not."

"Oh, that is no man!" exclaimed Vit.

Matsko commanded silence, then he examined the prisoner carefully, and said on a sudden,—

"Make the sign of the cross! make the sign of the cross for me this minute!"

"Praised be Jesus Christ!" said the prisoner, and, making the sign as quickly as possible, he drew a long breath, looked with more confidence on the assembly, and said,—

"Praised be Jesus Christ! for I could not tell whether I was in the hands of devils or of Christians. O Jesus!"

"Have no fear. Thou art among Christians who are glad to hear holy mass. Who art thou?"

"A tar-burner, lord, and a watchman. There are seven of us in watch-houses with our wives and children."

"How far are ye from here?"

"Not quite ten furlongs."

"How do ye go to the city?"

"We have our way behind Chartsi Vandol (Devil's Valley)."

"Chartsi Vandol? Make the sign of the cross again!"

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen."

"That is well. Can a wagon pass by that road?"

"There is mud now everywhere, though not so much as on the high-road, for wind blows in the Vandol and dries the mud. But to Budy it is terrible; though whoso knows the forest well can take a man to Budy slowly."

"Wilt thou show the passage for a skoitsa? Well, let it be for two!"

The tar-burner undertook willingly to show the way, stipulating yet for half a loaf of bread; for though not dying of hunger in the forest those people had not seen bread for a long time. It was arranged to start on the following morning, since it was "bad" to start toward evening.

"Boruta," said the tar-burner, "storms dreadfully at times through the forest, but he does no harm to common people. He is only chasing other devils because he is jealous of the princes of Lenchytsa. Still it is bad for any man to meet him at night, especially if the man has been drinking. In the daytime and when sober, no one need fear."

"But thou wert afraid," said Matsko.

"Because that knight caught me without my knowing it, and with such strength that I thought he was not a man."

Yagenka laughed because they had all thought the tar-burner some foul being, and the tar-burner had thought them foul. Anulka laughed with her, till Matsko said,—

"Thy eyes are not dried yet from crying after Hlava, and now thou art grinning."

Hlava looked at her rosy face, and seeing that her eyelashes were still moist inquired,—

"Were you crying for me?"

"Oh, no," answered the girl, "I was afraid—that is all."

"You are noble; a noble person should be ashamed of fear. Your mistress is not so timid. What harm could meet thee here in the daytime and among people?"

"Me? Nothing, but you."

"You say that you were not crying for me."

"Yes, because I was not."

"But why, then?"

"From fear."

"And now you are not afraid?"

"No."

"But why not?"

"Because you have come back."

Hlava looked at her with gratitude, smiled, and said,—

"In this way we might talk till morning. You are very cunning."

"Do not laugh at me," answered Anulka in an undertone.

Indeed, she might have been censured for anything rather than cunning, and Hlava, who was himself a sharp fellow, understood that quite well. He understood also that the girl was drawing closer to him daily. He loved Yagenka, but loved her as a subject loves a king, hence with the greatest honor and without any hope. Meanwhile, the journey brought him nearer to Anulka. In time of travelling old Matsko rode in front, usually with Yagenka, and Hlava rode with Anulka; but since he was as powerful as a bison, and his blood was just boiling when on the journey he looked at her clear eyes, at the yellow tresses which would not stay beneath the net, at her whole form shapely and beautiful, and especially at her legs, wonderful as if sculptured, which embraced the black horse, shivers passed from head to foot through him. Hence he could not restrain himself from glancing more and more at those perfections, and thought involuntarily that if the devil were to change himself to such a youth he might tempt him easily. At the same time that youth was as sweet as honey, and so obedient that he merely looked into Hlava's eyes, and was as joyous as a sparrow on a roof. At times strange thoughts came to Hlava's head, and once, when he and Anulka were somewhat in the rear, near the pack-horses, he turned to her suddenly, and said,—

"Do you know, I am here near you like a wolf near a lamb."

"Would you like to eat me?" asked she; and her white teeth just gleamed from sincere laughter.

"Yes, with all your bones!"

And he gazed at her with such a look that she blushed under it; then silence fell between them, but their hearts beat powerfully, his with desire, hers with a certain sweet, intoxicating fear.

At first desire was uppermost in the Cheh, and when he said that he looked at Anulka as a wolf at a lamb, he told the truth. But that evening, when he saw her cheeks and eye-lashes moist with tears, the heart softened in him. She seemed good and in some way near to him, his as it were, and having an honest nature, which was also knightly, he did not become proud, and was not haughty at sight of those tears, but grew more hesitating, and considered her more. His former heedless speech left him, and though he trifled a little at supper with the timid girl, it was different, and at the same time he served her as the attendant of a knight was bound to serve a noble woman. Matsko, though considering mainly the journey of the morrow, noticed this, but merely praised him for his lofty manners, which, as the old man said, he must have acquired at the Mazovian court with Zbyshko. Then turning to Yagenka, he added,—

"Hei! Zbyshko he would find his place even with a king!'

After that service at supper, when they had to part for the night, Hlava, after kissing Yagenka's hand, raised in turn to his lips Anulka's, wherewith he said,—

"Not only have no fear of me, but when near me fear nothing, for I will not yield thee to any one."

Then the men disposed themselves in the front room; Yagenka and Anulka in a side chamber on the same plank bed, which was broad and well-covered. Neither of them was able to fall asleep soon, for some reason, but especially Anulka, who turned every moment on her coarse blanket. So after a time Yagenka pushed her head up, and whispered,—

"Anulka!"

"What?"

"It seems to me that thou art terribly fond of the Cheh. How is it?"

The question remained without an answer, so Yagenka whispered again,—

"Well, I understand that; so tell me."

Anulka gave no answer; she merely pressed her lips to the cheek of her lady and kissed it repeatedly. But sighs raised the maiden breast of poor Yagenka time after time.

"Oi, I understand, I understand!" whispered she so quietly that Anulka's ear barely caught the words.